


Regional Flora

by lorenzobane



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Sam & T'Challa bromance, Sam loves the theater, Shuri continues to be our Great Hero, Wakanda forever, and is amazing all around, sam goes to wakanda!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorenzobane/pseuds/lorenzobane
Summary: In retrospect, Sam really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he was the first person T’Challa asks to hang out with socially.Or: Sam Wilson is the first officially invited guest of Wakanda.





	Regional Flora

In retrospect, Sam really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he was the first person T’Challa asks to hang out with socially. 

He’s in New York, working with Tony and Steve on setting up the Avengers again. Sam is tagging along, mostly to make sure that Tony and Steve don’t kill each other, but also because being in New York, and being bankrolled by Tony Stark is basically his childhood dream. 

He’s gone to Broadway at least 11 times in two weeks. Steve is somewhere between amused and bemused. 

Still, when T’Challa comes sidling up to him after a meeting, surrounded by stunningly beautiful women holding large spears, he wonders if he’s going to die. What he doesn’t expect is-- 

“So, you like the theater, Mr. Wilson?” 

“Um,” Sam says, trying to make his brain work faster. “Yes?” 

“Wonderful,” he continues, his smile is so disarming, “would you care to join me tonight? Nakia is busy in Oakland and I confess I am... Curious about western theater.” 

Sam nods, feeling completely out of his element but T’Challa looks thrilled. “I will pick you up at six, I would also like to have dinner.” 

* * *

 

Looking back it’s logical, T’Challa is not used to being surrounded by white people, not even close to used to being a minority. And Tony, and Steve, who do try their best, have their white alpha male tendencies that make them discount anyone else in the room. T’Challa doesn’t let them, his quiet charisma rips through both their showboating, but he has to work for it. 

Sam, for his part, is actually really excited to have other black people around him. He knows it’s different, they’re from Wakanda, they don’t have the same relationship to whiteness that he does. They feel like fish out of water, in a different culture where they are a minority. Sam sometimes feels like he’s a drowning fish, being pushed under oppressive waves just when he gets his head up. 

They do have fun at the theater. Sam is once again shocked (and he shouldn’t have been) by the depth of T’Challa’s sensitivity and warmth. He tears up during the play without shame and comments on the beauty of it. Sam is just amazed that this strong man, this leader, a pillar of his community, has the generosity of spirit to tear up when he sees something beautiful. It makes him wonder what Wakanda is like, to create people like T’Challa. 

Sam is not remotely surprised when T’Challa invites him to Wakanda with him. Steve watches him in barely concealed jealousy as he gets loaded up into the Wakandan ship. He knows that Steve is desperately curious about Bucky, and Sam has promised to check in on him. 

“I hope you will like Wakanda,” T’Challa says, clapping his shoulder and sitting next to him. “Soon we will invite the rest of your friends too. We just thought we should start small, with the council.” 

Sam laughed, “I’m sure I will, man. And they’ll be fine, I love making ‘em jealous. Y’all are cool, what’s the food situation out there?”

Spicy, apparently. Sam spent the entire first dinner crying while the Queen-Mother stared at him and the Princess laughs (”my god, man! Call me Shuri. Princess makes me feel ridiculous.”) 

T’Challa takes it in stride and ignores it, Sam is more grateful than he can possibly say. 

“I would like for you to join me at the council meeting tomorrow,” he says, lapping up his spicy curry without blinking. 

“Yeah, man. Sure,” Sam manages to choke out, “anything I should be aware of?” 

T’Challa leans back and thinks, “The Jabari tribe, which has been isolated for centuries, has recently rejoined our council. M’Baku, the tribe leader, he is a bit... Tempestuous. Be wary of him.” 

Sam nods and swallows down some milk, cooling the burn. 

* * *

 

Sam loves Wakanda. The bright colors, the architecture, the people milling about, surrounded by technology and tradition and food and music. He almost can’t believe a place like this exists. 

He is able to walk around a bit, before the council meeting the next day. Nakia, the King’s girlfriend, decides to join him. Upon meeting her, he immediately realizes he was wrong, she is hardly just the King’s girlfriend. Nakia is amazing, and Sam is half in love with her. 

“You must try this,” she says, dragging him to a street vendor selling meat. “It will blow you away.” 

And damn, it did. It was some of the best meat he’s ever had. 

“So, how’s California treating you?” 

Nakia laughs a little under her breath, “it is hard, to be away so long. I was a spy before, I am used to leaving... This time though, it feels a little harder. Besides, the water in America is not as good of quality, I can not drink the tap water. It is very difficult.” 

Sam chokes on a laugh but nods understandingly. He presumes she’s referring to constantly having to leave T’Challa, who spends most of his time in his country while she is in the United States. When he saw them walking together, he assumed she would be regal to the point of not relatable, the type of woman who is a queen. Maybe a non-murderous Lady Macbeth. 

And she is all those things, fierce, intelligent, but so unbelievably kind and loyal, Sam is honestly blown away. And when T’Challa and her are together, he gets the benefit of watching them both melt. The respect and love in their eyes, in their words, in the way they trust each other so completely, is honestly mind-blowing. Sam doesn’t know if he’s ever seen a love like theirs. It is beautiful, but honestly... It makes him a little lonely. 

“We must get going,” she says, pulling Sam out of his thoughts, “the meeting will start soon.” 

* * *

 

Sam had been expecting a boardroom table for the meeting, high backs and a huge table separating everyone. He’s pleasantly surprised by a huge, regal room, with several chairs in the center that are cozy and close. The other members are already there, looking at him with judgment. 

“The last American we had here,” a woman began, Sam assumes she is a tribe leader, “he tried to lay waste to our way of life. He tried to destroy our traditions. And yet, you allow another one inside our borders.” 

T’Challa is calm. “We can not judge all Americans based on N'Jadaka. He was struggling with... Other things. Sam is a model of America, a good soldier, and a good man. Bast has blessed us with his company.” 

Sam shifts uncomfortably, and can’t help blurting out, “listen, I’m not trying to cause any trouble. I’m just--” 

“Please stop,” a voice cuts in, it’s deep and draws Sam’s eyes. Sitting in a chair, thighs spread wide, is a really really hot guy. Sam stared at him for longer than appropriate and wondered again if there is something in the water. Okoye, Nakia, T’Challa... They were all gorgeous. But this guy... Something about him. 

“M’Baku,” T’Challa says, and that catches Sam’s attention. This guy is the loose cannon that T’Challa warned him about. “Let him speak for himself.” 

M’Baku rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, Sam’s mouth goes a little dry at the movement but forces himself to focus. 

“All I want is to experience this great land. Wakanda is amazing and filled with such wonderful people, I could not be more honored that I am the first guest formally recognized on this soil. You can trust me.” 

The council is quiet for a moment before they seem to make eye contact. Sam can’t breathe, but apparently, he passed some type of test, because they move on to other items on the agenda without looking at him again. He can’t help but sigh in relief and look for an exit. 

He makes eye contact with Okoye who nods and gestures to the door, and he starts out. 

“So, Sam Wilson,” a voice interrupts him once he’s outside the chamber. “The first American to be invited formally to our country. Their country. The Jabari did not invite you.” 

Sam turns slowly to face M’Baku. He has to look up slightly, M’Baku has five inches on him and more than that in general heft. Sam is a man built to fly, but M’Baku looks like he could shake the earth. 

“I’m sorry to hear that man,” Sam says, shaking his head ruefully, “but I’m here now, aren’t I? Sorry, ya lost, flyboy.” 

“Flyboy?” M’Baku says, tilting his head to the side slightly, and it is unfairly adorable. “I thought it was you who... Can fly.” 

Sam chuckles, “I am, but don’t worry your pretty head about it. Just an American expression.” 

M’Baku looks even more calculating now. “Pretty?” 

Sam kind of wants to shoot himself. Instead, he splutters out uselessly,“I have to go. Shuri... The Princess is expecting me.” 

He hears the rolling sound of M’Baku’s laughter as he walks away briskly, his face burning. He’s not here to flirt with tribe leaders, especially ones who are not trusted by your friend. Because it violates the bro-code and he and T’Challa are totally bros. So. Whatever. 

* * *

 

He should have known that wasn’t the end of it. M’Baku just starts appearing after that. When Sam is doing his morning runs, when he’s wandering the shops, when he’s on art history tours given by 21-year-old kids. He’s there, giving snarky, but devastatingly intelligent insight on everything Wakanda has to offer. 

At first, Sam tries to avoid him, desperate to not cause too much trouble. Then T’Challa, who is much more observant that Sam gave him credit for, simply said one day, “M’Baku is a man of honor. I am glad he has taken to you so well.” 

Sam cocked his head to the side, “no, man. I’m not disobeying you or whatever. He just keeps  _appearing_ everywhere. I know you don’t trust him--” 

T’Challa looks down, hiding a smile, “Sam. It is okay. M’Baku is difficult, surely. But he is a good man. With a good heart. And so are you.” 

“Listen, I don’t know what you think--” 

“I know in America,” T’Challa cuts him off, “there are certain thoughts and assumptions about life partners. About masculinity and what that means. It is different here, Sam. M’Baku has never loved women.” 

“He...” Sam is at a loss, “but... He?”

T’Challa shrugs, “Bast and hanuman see hearts, and goodness, and honor. They are not concerned with trivialities of gender.” 

And that had been the end of that, apparently. Now, Sam doesn’t know what to do. 

M’Baku is apparently more than fair game, and there is nothing cultural stopping him. Now that he knows that he takes to looking around at the other people in town more, and he notices how many women are holding hands, and how many young men are playing footsie, and how many old men are walking in the park. It’s a little dizzying, to be surrounded by so much love and acceptance. 

The other problem is M’Baku himself. He’s... Sam is not sure where he stands with him. Some days, Sam is sure they are flirting, walking next to the flower market while M’Baku makes him laugh and mocks him for loving the bright flora so much. 

Some days, he’s sure M’Baku thinks he’s an idiot. On those days he’s cold, and difficult to read. It’s hard to keep his head on straight. 

In the meantime, he observes Nakia and T’Challa again. Their easy camaraderie, their deep love. He can tell that they are best friends as well as lovers, holding hands so softly as they walk through the gardens of the palace. He sighs to himself. 

“American minds aren’t meant to think so much.” 

Sam turns around and smiles, M’Baku is standing behind him holding flowers from the market. Sam is particularly fond of them, though he’s sure no one knows, he’s never bought them. He just spends extra long looking at them. 

“These... They are for you,” M’Baku said, curtly. 

“For me, man? Why? Why these?”

M’Baku shrugged, “they are your favorite. You always make us stop and stand for so long when the shop has them. So here. Maybe now you’ll stop dragging me all the way there just to look at them.” 

Sam can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “Thank you, M’Baku. That was really nice of you.” 

“Pah,” M’Baku says, using his hands to physically push Sam’s sentiment away, “it is a matter of practicality.” 

“Sure,” Sam agrees with amusement. 

“I...” M’Baku starts, “I have to go.” 

Sam watches in confusion as M’Baku practically sprints away from him. 

* * *

 

“He likes you, you know,” Shuri says, her eyes are still hyperfocused on his wings. She’s offered “a few minor improvements” that Sam is sure will make Tony nut. 

“Who?” Sam asks, playing dumb. 

She looks up for a moment and narrows her eyes, “don’t play stupid, Sam. My brother and I have been talking about it.” 

“I... What? T’Challa...” Sam splutters, completely betrayed. 

Shuri shakes her head. “Stop being stupid, Sam Wilson. He has given you flowers. What more are you waiting for!” 

“I don’t know,” Sam asks sarcastically, “emotional availability.” 

Shuri rolls her eyes, “he is emotionally available to you. You are just stubborn.” 

“Is it so wrong for me to want him to actually say something? In words?” 

Shuri slaps him upside the head, “you’re a fool. He doesn’t use his words. He uses actions. He showed you he cared with the flowers, and now he’s waiting for your action.” 

Sam stares at her for a. moment, amazed that he’s so stupid, before presses a kiss to her forehead and runs out of her lab screaming, “you’re a god damn genius.”

* * *

 

He finds M’Baku easily, though something tells him that if he didn’t want to be found Sam would never find him. He is sitting on a chair in a small restaurant sipping on mint tea. Sam slides in next to him. 

He takes a moment to bask in this, he’s never felt so instantly comfortable with anyone. He somehow just knows that M’Baku will always be there to back him up, loyally and kindly, with wisdom and honor. 

He also takes a moment to realize that now that he’s here, he doesn’t know what to do. 

“I liked your flowers,” Sam blurted out. 

“So you mentioned,” M’Baku replied calmly, taking another drink of his tea.

“Why are you down here so much?” Sam can’t help but ask, “your tribe. They’re all in the mountains.” 

M’Baku looks at him for a long moment, before taking another sip of tea. “I think you know why.” 

“Do you... Do you want... Do you want to maybe go on a date? With me?” Sam asks, finally at his wit's end. 

M’Baku laughs, and it stings. Sam turns away to face the crowd again, gearing up to leave, when a hand grabs his wrist. 

“Sam Wilson,” M’Baku says softly, “we have been on a dozen “dates,” He puts the word in quotes. “I did that for you. Because of your American culture.” 

“Oh...” Sam says, totally caught off guard. “So... What do you want to do?” 

M’Baku’s grin turns dark and dirty before he leans over slightly to kiss Sam right in the middle of a busy shop. It’s powerful and forceful and Sam barely manages to hang on while M’Baku proved that he’s a plunderer at heart. 

“That,” M’Baku says pulling back slightly and licking his lips,” is what I want to do.” 

Sam nods, a smile pulling at his face, “yeah. I want that too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, someone, give me a rare-pair that I don't love. But tbh M'Baku and Sam would love each other!! Sorry for the controversial truth


End file.
